Too Deep
by FC4
Summary: A short story about an student of the Mage's Guild who gets a little too ambitious in his studies. T for a bit of violence, but such is the way of uncontrolled magic.


**Author's Note: **_This is a short story I wrote a long time ago, for some contest I can't remember. I thought I had lost it forever and recently discovered it still existed. I am considering putting it into a compilation of Elder Scrolls Aesop's Fables-esque short stories, though I may not. I hope you enjoy. Some who have played the older games may recognize some things. _

**Too Deep  
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Kurrian smiled at the scroll of parchment in his hand, as he handed the gold over to the shady man. The man pocketed the money in his cloak quickly, nodding wordlessly to Kurrian before leaving the dark alley hurriedly.

Kurrian, however, was less nervous, and pocketed the scroll he had worked so hard to find with slow pleasure. The Bothdorji Scroll; the key to the summoning of a Fire Daedra, a being so powerful it made Fire Atronachs look childish. Kurrian knew the Guild had outlawed the scroll, for it allowed nearly anyone to summon the demon spirit, but Kurrian was ever stubborn, and went through underground means to obtain it, all in the interest of research and knowledge.

To speak with such a being! It was a blessing for such an opportunity. Kurrian was quick to get back to his personal room of the guildhall, locking the door and releasing his unknowingly held breath. He stared at the room for but a moment, before he hurriedly shifted furniture to make room for a summoning circle. Lighting a candle, Kurrian gently dripped the hot wax into a complex symbol, creating the summoning circle with delicate practice.

Standing before his circle, he breathed deeply and with shaking hands unrolled the scroll. The words were written in red ink that gleamed in candlelight. His words were excitedly stuttering as he read the scroll, one hand out in a beckoning gesture.

"Breathe candent smoke on the veil of Oblivion  
>And force the line dispelled<br>Awaken the sleepless, unquiet Princes  
>And bid Their standing servants rise.<br>It is the night when frost will burn,  
>When flame will freeze the lamp-lit lake,<br>When clouds of bats devour clouds of birds,  
>When boils and sores afflict the rich,<br>When a boy with wings doth curse the land.  
>If knowing lies fester on my tongue<br>And such whens are but whispers in the night  
>These words form a sentence of death.<br>But if the Day of Oblivion is indeed at hand  
>Servants of the Dark, obey me."<p>

The words were harsh as they left his lips, and made him shiver. At first nothing happened, and Kurrian couldn't help but frown. Maybe the scroll was fake? The words certainly didn't imply a Fire Daedra being summoned. _[i]Come on, work! Come to me![/i] _

As if in response to his mental beckoning, the candles flickered violently, shadows dancing around the room. A wind picked up that rustled his robes and made him shiver more, but he held fast where he stood.

The flames of the candles began to move, leaving their wicks and moving through the air as if their own beings, coming together in the center of the air above the wax summoning circle. As one flame, they cast an eerie orange glow upon the room. Kurrian gulped.

The flame began to grow, taking a form larger than the Altmer scholar. The crackle of flames filled his ears as he watched the fire take a humanoid shape. At first bright, sections of the form began to darken, becoming chest plate, greaves, pauldrons and bracers. It began to take the shape of a massive armored man aflame, and this was solidified by the ebony mask that eerily resembled a human face, which formed but mere moments later. Five flaming fingers closed in a fist, and from that fist a gout of fire bellowed, surging forth to the length of a longsword and darkening. Flames licked along the lengths of the ebony blade and armor, while spewing from the bright orange body beneath and between the armor plates.

The face was stony, expressionless, as it looked around the room, before the glowing eyes of lava locked on Kurrian. Beneath the powerful gaze of the Fire Daedra, Kurrian found his speech stolen from him. All he could do was gaze in wonder at the being.

After a few minutes of staring between the two, Kurrian remembered how to speak. "Powerful spirit of fire… I wish to take audience with thee, and question." Kurrian proclaimed in nervous anticipation. The flaming figure simply stared at him, before cocking its head to one side, the eerie face mocking Kurrian with stony expressionless features.

And then suddenly, the Fire Daedra flared, the brightness of its fire filling the room and causing Kurrian to squint and put up a hand to protect his eyes. The wicks of the candles on the dresser relit, followed shortly after by the dresser itself, the window curtains, and the bed sheets. The sheer heat exuded by the Daedra lit even the wooden chair against the wall, the fire crawling up towards the ceiling.

"Thou will art weak." The Fire Daedra spoke, those dark lips moving slowly as the words crackled through the air with deafening depth. "Frail art thou hands." It stepped toward Kurrian, who involuntarily stepped back from the wave of heat that followed the motion of the Daedra. The floor itself caught fire beneath its feet, and Kurrian could feel boils beginning to form on the skin of his arms, which he held up to shield his eyes.

"Thou have not the right-" The Daedra continued, the long ebony sword of flames pulling back, the point leveled with Kurrian's chest as it stepped forward again and he stepped back into the wall, fear plain on his sunburned face.

"-To make demands."

* * *

><p>When morning rose it greeted a Mages Guild that was remarkably untouched physically. However, the mentality of the mages within had been shattered. They stood around the door to Kurrian's room, each trying to stretch over the other's shoulders to see inside.<p>

The room was charred in almost every inch of surface area, and as the battlemage investigator and the Guildmaster moved about the room ash swirled around them, dancing in accordance with their movements.

"I don't understand." Jeerah muttered to himself, looking at the remains of Kurrian's dresser. He then moved to the window, moving aside an ashen remnant of curtain to look at the melted glass that pooled on the window sill. With a sigh he turned back to the battlemage, who inspected the body itself. "How could the fire only contain itself to this room and no other? The entire building is wooden."

The battlemage shrugged, his focus not on the Guildmaster but on the charred body he inspected. It was pinned to the wall by a sword as black as ebony that looked warped from heat-induced shaping. The body was naught but bone and burnt flesh, and the battlemage hesitantly ran his gauntleted finger over a arm, which crumbled where he touched it.

"Did he ever have an interest in fire of any kind, Destructive or otherwise?" The battlemage asked absently. Jeerah looked stunned at the question, as if it was rhetorical.

"Why yes… He was studying the Elemental Daedra, the Flame Atronach in particular. But he had summoned them before. I doubt a simple Fire Atronach could have caused this!" Jeerah complained, waving his hand at the charred room in exasperation. The battlemage, however, stood straight and handed over a single scroll to the man, a scroll that was browned by heat but not burned.

Jeerah gawked at the scroll, mostly because it was the only thing still intact in the room, when it should have been the first to burn. He then unrolled the scroll and read the words in his mind, his expression darkening.

"Do you know he had this, or how he got a hold of it?" The battlemage inquired. The Guildmaster gapped at the investigator, perplexed. Satisfied, the battlemage reclaimed the scroll, rolling it up and storing it in his robes. He moved to the door, the mages parting to let him through.

"It looks to me, Guildmaster Jeerah, that your scholar went a little too deep into his studies, and wasn't prepared for the consequences."


End file.
